


wept and loved

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Begging, Dubious Consent, Fontcest, Guilt, M/M, Overstimulation, Pining, Sensitive bones, Sibling Incest, Soul Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 22:52:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Their SOULs developed accidental feelings. Upon his demise, Sans gave in while Papyrus' influence devoured his resistance whole.





	wept and loved

The moment the door closed behind them, Papyrus had Sans pinned to the back of it, their fronts flushed together and the thrumming of their SOULs behind their rib cages desperate for heat and connection and touch. Papyrus lowered himself, crossing those inches separating their heights until his teeth pressed against his brother’s, their gazes even and breaths coalescing and their intentions mingling. He intertwined his phalanges with Sans’, bringing their hands together against the door, and watched contentedly once the force of his influence had settled into Sans’ resolve, with his brother’s limbs gone slack.

Sans wasn’t sure when _this_...the frantic press of their bodies, groping like teenagers, became okay. It was the third time that week where Papyrus’ yearning and restlessness had ended up there; within Papyrus’ appetite, Papyrus had trapped him to a wall before breakfast, whispered illicit promises and declarations to him on the walk to their stations, and caressed him underneath his clothes while snoozing at his station.

Objectively, whichever way they went, their accidental feelings proved to be the catalyst of Sans’ guilty desires and constrained urges. Long ago, he would have never admitted to wanting something so vile and depraved. So, he tried to push Papyrus away, his hands flat on his brother’s chest, but they crippled compliantly as Papyrus continued to pamper his face with loving, warm kisses. Denial melted into butter, and butter saturated into submission. Upon his demise, Sans gave in while Papyrus’ influence devoured his resistance whole.

He lazily moaned his desire, blushing and torrid, and he nearly melted as some of Papyrus’ sneaky digits fondled up his shirt to stroke at the nervous, quivering bones there. The sudden spasm within his SOUL tortured him, and Sans’ voice hitched sharply when he watched a string of cream cling to the head of Papyrus’ gloved fingertip which must have trickled down from his SOUL as Papyrus pulled his hand away.

His stare so concentrated, so deep, Papyrus avowed to show Sans the depth of his affections, his digits reached higher, stroking and loving against Sans’ cheekbone until he had cupped his brother’s skull with both hands. Sans sluiced, his eye lights shuddering.

The scene blended to their couch, unable to make the trek all the way upstairs.

Sans flinched as Papyrus settled them in a position of facing each other, his back against the arm of the seat and his feet on either side of his brother’s hips. Papyrus reeled his larger body over him, and his brother’s amorous intentions hung heavy in the air. Succumbing to the influence, Sans’ SOUL trembled, sweat already sugaring on his bones.

Papyrus reached between them to tug up his battle armor and drape it on the back of the couch, and Sans tensed. Sans had realized that, in that lingering moment, he hadn’t known if he would actually be able to go through with it. Papyrus paused, searching in his brother’s eye sockets, “IS THIS OKAY?”

Sans only nodded, swallowing down the last of his control and regrets, and he hurriedly moved his hands atop of Papyrus’ to bring themselves quicker to completion, to finish it all as soon as possible. Together, they pulled off Sans’ shirt.

Naked bone on naked bone. Papyrus was mystified. His SOUL trembled from the sheer eroticism of it all, his mind subjugated, hazy, and lost to the sensations evoking from their coupling.

Papyrus’ marrow sizzled as the excitement bubbled forth from his mouth, eliciting a satisfying sound akin to a broken groan.

“I HAVE TO TOUCH YOU, SANS. I PROMISE I WILL MAKE YOU FEEL SO GOOD.”

When Papyrus’ curious hand curled around Sans’ sensitive SOUL for the first time, Sans had to grit his teeth to keep and smother down the moan threatening to move out of him, to keep from climaxing at just one, simple brush of agonizing contact, to keep from falling to pieces. Papyrus shuddered, his own SOUL reacting in tandem from the pulse of magic emanating from Sans’.

Papyrus’ palm was warm and dry and perfect against the surface of the quivering, magical organ, and Sans clutched at Papyrus’ forearms as his spine arched, the pleasure striking down his nerves until he could feel it at his toes. Nothing had ever felt so good before; Papyrus began to thumb Sans’ SOUL down the middle, exploring its curvature and dips at its ends and sides, kneading the swelling membrane until it was set to burst. He swiped at the sticky dew pooling on its surface, occasionally wringing out the fluid in droplets which dribbled over his hand.

Sans didn’t think, _couldn’t think_ , and he rocked forward in an attempt to thrust against the exquisite motions of Papyrus’ ministrations. Eye lights blow out, Sans’ entire world was sharp and poised on a single paragon: Papyrus’ fervid and deliberate touches. He couldn’t keep the pathetic noises under wraps any longer, and before his body even registered it, he cried out.

“oh, oh god, _papyrus_.”

His name on Sans’ ruptured breath was the most decadent, debauched, divine sound Papyrus had ever heard.

Papyrus gave a wide smile, full of grandeur, wit, and confidence, “IT FEELS GOOD, DOESN’T IT? I TOLD YOU SO. THAT IS ALL I WANT, I WANT TO TAKE CARE OF YOU.”

In an instant, Papyrus leaned forward to meld their teeth together, but it wasn’t harsh or desperate of a kiss as Sans would have expected, given the constant churn of electricity between their bodies. Instead, it was slow, just floating and testing the bubbling heat of their marrow and magic. Papyrus exhibited attentive control and allowed himself to grind between Sans’ legs to emulate his desires, falling into a rhythm.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO KEEP GOING?” Papyrus asked proudly, the wetness of his brother’s SOUL spurting between his phalanges. Sans mewled, unable to properly confess to what he wanted so dearly, and that omission spoke volumes; it was so adorable.

“fuck, oh god yes…” Sans muttered, his voice shook, “p-please.”

“NYEH HEH, OF COURSE! BUT THERE IS SOMETHING I WOULD LIKE TO TRY. YOU’LL VERY MUCH ENJOY IT.”

Sans watched with glossed-over vision as Papyrus coaxed his own SOUL to emerge from its cavity. It was dripping and wracking and hard from arousal--just like Sans’--and from the small growl of impatience from his brother’s mouth, and from the small growl of impatience from his brother’s mouth, Sans noted how Papyrus was on the verge of exploding too, despite the lack of stimulation.

“THIS WILL FEEL EVEN BETTER. I PROMISE.”

Their SOULs in each one of Papyrus’ hands, there was a intense, faltering second of pause, of contemplation. Papyrus scooted forward, marveling at the titillating rise and fall of Sans’ chest, the obstructive lust glazed in Sans’ eye lights, the heavy, wet whimpers drawing out of Sans’ mouth.

Sans was completely lost in his spell, drowning in it.

Papyrus cataloged every motion and reaction, every jerk of Sans’ limbs, every throb of Sans’ withering SOUL, and every quick, indrawn breath. It was truly captivating, a heady dose of anticipation roiled within him.

Carefully, Papyrus held Sans’ questioning stare and brought their SOULs closer together, until the sparks of their magic laced in a bundle of magnetism. Sans’ eye sockets widened, and it was then when Papyrus slid their SOULs together did the entirety of his thoughts ramble everywhere.

The sensation was devastating.

Sans’ eye lights rolled in the back of his skull as he felt Papyrus massage and rub their SOULs together, the slick residue squelching beautifully along the surfaces.

Sans tried to hold it back, tried to stop it from happening, but it was too late, there was no stopping it. The spiraling, excruciating rush of pleasure, of orgasm, was full and seeping and burning from the degree of heat. He clawed at the cushions underneath him, every nerve cramping up into one, conclusive ache, and his voice hoarsened when all of his gratification came rushed and flying from his maw.

Sans’ toes curled in sync with his sound effects, the tension in his limbs and tightness pinched in his SOUL being too much for his body to take. Papyrus rested his forehead on Sans’, grinding their SOULs harder and harder and pleased with watching the tired smile break across Sans’ face.

Papyrus pressed their teeth together again, swallowing down the sounds of rapture coming forth from Sans, rolling their SOULs round and round in a messy tango as Sans kicked and scrambled for relief. Unable to take more of the torture, overstimulated in the overflows of release and sweat beading from their bones, Sans clutched at Papyrus’ back and splayed out his twitching phalanges to beg for mercy.

Papyrus’ pace teetered out of control, submerging in the black water of their conjoined ecstasy, and their gasps soon matched and synchronized in harsh, desperate, and ragged hyperventilations.

Smirking behind the exertion, Papyrus squeezed both of their SOULs until the syruped mesh leaked on the couch cushions, and Sans choked out a cry when another orgasm blistered and burned down his spine.

Sans wept and sobbed out, locked in a perpetual climax, “papyrus--oh god, i-it’s so good...please, i-i can’t--,” The tendrils of an impending, unbearable orgasm caused a split interruption in his pleas, leaving him to babble disconcernable sounds.

Allowing him a chance to recollect himself, Papyrus separated their SOULs, a web of fluid connecting between them.

Sans slumped on the couch, his SOUL still writhing in Papyrus’ palm. To smolder down the high, Papyrus kneaded the underside of Sans’ organ, dissolving the frayed nerves in relaxation. Sans’ sockets fell heavier and heavier into a peaceful closing; silent bliss.

“NO SANS, DON’T FALL ASLEEP YET!” Papyrus implored, adding more pressure to Sans’ SOUL, to win back his attention, “WE’RE JUST GETTING STARTED!”

At the feel of affection again, Sans opened his eye sockets, panting in exhaustion and lucidity returning to him. There was an undercurrent that wouldn’t go away, like the presence of pain under a sedative, and it clenched unforgivingly at his chest. The recognition of everything that had transpired finally made his eye sockets open wider; Papyrus should never look at him that way, beaming with beguiling want and lust, and Sans never should had indulged in it and allowed his brother to play in their chemistry.

Sans believed he was going to Hell for a myriad of reasons, but he was heading there on ecstasy for avoiding the reality.

**Author's Note:**

> what am i doing?


End file.
